


Panic! at the Shopping Mall

by magicbubblepipe



Series: A Series of Firsts [2]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hank typical cursing, Hannor, M/M, Panic Attacks, Shopping Malls, UST, anti android language, hankcon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 15:10:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15584667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicbubblepipe/pseuds/magicbubblepipe
Summary: Connor experiences his first shopping trip and his first panic attack on the same day....I'm sorry about the title.





	Panic! at the Shopping Mall

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for the positive response to the first part of this series! I hope you enjoy this little update :)

 

Connor received a check from the DPD, backlogging all of the pay he would have earned over the past months. It was a substantial amount of money, at least for an android who never had more than a few quarters at a time. Hank suggested that it was now the perfect time to take Connor shopping for his own clothes. 

The mall was nothing short of a sensory overload. Connor had never been inside such a place before and was instantly dazzled by the lights and noise of the crowded shopping center. He felt his pump regulator speed up, causing him to exhale warm air as his processors heated up.

“Did you just sigh?” Hank asked incredulously.

“Negative,” Connor replied, “I’m expelling excess heat from my system. The same way a computer uses a fan.”

“Yeah, we call that sighing.” 

Connor grimaced in Hank’s general direction, in lieu of a verbal response. 

The older man chuckled and fluffed up Connor’s hair with his hand. Connor’s newly sensitive scalp tingled at the casual touch. An error message flashed before his eyes but he shooed it away, trotting along after Hank, who had started walking toward Macy’s. 

The glaring fluorescence of the department store was harsh on Connor’s optical receptors; he manually contracted his pupils to compensate for the uncomfortable sensation. Glaringly red electronic signage boasted the day’s sales; top 40 hits playing over the speakers. The workers were mostly Jerries, their chipper demeanor perfect for retail; Connor and Hank were enthusiastically greeted by at least five of them since entering the store. 

“Men’s department is that way,” Hank said, gesturing toward the back left. “But you pick whatever suits you best.” 

Connor’s LED was an anxious yellow; he looked at Hank like he’d just assigned him an impossible task. 

“How do I know what suits me?” Connor asked, a line of confusion forming between his perfect brows. 

Hank blinked, clearly flummoxed. He ran a hand back through his hair and sighed, gesturing broadly, “Hell, I don’t know. Look around, I guess? We’re not in any hurry.” 

Connor nodded, a new objective appearing in the periphery of his vision. 

 

_ NEW MISSION...Look Around _

_ \---Form Opinion On Clothing? _

He wandered the store, getting distracted briefly by the glittering jewelry cases while waiting for something to catch his attention. The fragrance department was located squarely between him and the men’s apparel. Hank trailed along behind him, awkwardly declining every salesperson that offered to spray him.

Connor examined the strangely shaped bottles in their gemstone colors. The acute sensors in his nose were picking up millions of pieces of data, his processors whirring to catch up. But for the first time, he ignored the individual components of the fragrances and focused on the actual scent. He sampled several perfumes and colognes, keeping a file on the fragrance notes that appealed to him most. 

“I’m getting a goddamn headache,” Hank grumbled from behind him. “What are you looking for anyway? You smell fine.” 

Connor turned and arched a brow at him. “Are you telling me I smell good?” 

Hank reddened. “That’s not what I said, you ass.”

Connor fought back a smile, “What do I smell like?” 

“Jesus, Connor, I dunno,” he shrugged, casting his eyes around at the bottles surrounding them; anywhere but at the android. “Like...clean fabric and plastic, but also sort of sweet sometimes…? Fuck, I’m bad at this.”

“That sweetness could be a pheromone I produce, designed to have a calming effect on deviants who are under duress. It’s an experimental feature I’m beta testing for CyberLife. Of course, I’m immune.” 

“Well ain’t that neat,” Hank snarked back. “What will they think of next?” 

Connor ignored this, instead compiling all of the scents he enjoyed into a list, with which he could narrow down the selection of fragrances he had to choose between. He found that he was partial to warm, earthy smells. He liked bergamot, sandalwood, orange blossom, petrichor, coffee, and cinnamon the most. 

Then again...if Hank liked the way he smelled naturally, what would be the point? He was living with the man, after all; therefore, Hank would be smelling Connor more than anyone else. And picking a cologne would mean he’d have to somehow deduce what scents Hank liked best and incorporate those into his comprehensive list. Connor shook his head, abandoning that train of thought, as it was going nowhere. 

Instead, he shuffled his way past the clumps of people that had gathered in the middle of the main aisle and made a beeline toward the clothing. Hank swore under his breath and followed, awkwardly excusing himself from the saleswoman who was trying to make suggestions for his ‘partner’. (He didn’t bother to correct her; Connor was, in fact, his partner. Just not in the way that she probably meant.)

Connor finally made it to the men’s department and had no idea where to start. He scanned the racks and racks of clothing, his HUD instantly providing him with brand names and pricing for every article he saw. He flinched minutely when Hank spoke from behind him. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, gesturing to the flashing yellow of Connor’s LED. “Buffering?” 

Connor’s frown of concentration deepened as he turned to Hank. “How do I know what I like?” 

Hank made the three-toned noise that all humans understood to mean ‘I don’t know’. 

“Surely you’ve got to have some kind of opinion on clothes?” Hank said, “Any particular style you feel comfortable in? Favorite color? Gimme something to work with, kid.” 

Connor looked at him for a significant amount of time. Hank was just about to ask if he ran out of batteries again when Connor said, “Blue.” 

“Blue?” Hank repeated.

“I… I  _ like _ the color blue.”

“Seems like you’d be sick of blue, with all the thirium you’ve seen lately.” 

“Not that kind of blue,” Connor said, and raised his hand, pointing at Hank’s eyes. “This kind of blue.” 

Hank made some sort of sucking noise in the back of his throat and coughed hard.  _ Smooth.  _ He felt the flush crawling up his neck as he caught his breath, daring to look at Connor who seemed concerned. 

“Are you alright, Lieutenant?” 

Hank shook his head, at a loss. “You never cease to fuckin’ surprise me, Connor. Is that why you were staring at me a second ago?”

This time, it was Connor’s turn to be embarrassed. He averted his eyes to the floor as he spoke. “You assume correctly. I apologize, Hank. I realize how that might have been a little weird.” 

Hank barked out a laugh. “Yeah, a little.”

Conversation trailed off into a tense silence, which Connor eventually broke when he saw a powder blue blazer hanging against the back wall. He took off towards it, Hank trailing along behind like some kind of doting husband.  _ Fuck. _

Connor picked out the blue blazer, and a similar one in black, before wandering toward the shirts. One advantage of shopping as an android, was that he could automatically compare the measurements of a piece of clothing with his own, to find the optimal fit without having to try anything on. He utilized this feature to choose some white and black button-ups, similar to the ones issued to him from CyberLife. And then, hesitating briefly, he also grabbed a salmon pink one.

Hank observed Connor, trying not to sway his opinion one way or another; it was fascinating to watch him slowly break away from his comfort zone, one color at a time. 

After grabbing a few t-shirts in various shades, Connor moved on to pants. He ended up choosing a pair of charcoal slacks and some new, tight fitted jeans in dark and acid wash. Hank was now having to help him carry the clothes, and was starting to have flashbacks to shopping trips with his ex-wife. Only now there was a lot less arguing. 

Connor looked over his clothing choices so far and found them adequate but somehow lacking. So he kept searching, not knowing what he was even after. He wandered away from the realm of tight fitting, trendy clothes and into the one of khakis, cargo shorts, and polos. The men modeling on the advertisements were all in their mid to late forties, as opposed to the twenty-somethings in the section he’d just come from. 

His attention was suddenly drawn to a burst of color and he moved towards it like a moth to a flame. He’d found the loudest, tackiest short-sleeve button-ups he’d ever seen, outside Hank’s closet, of course. Some had vibrant hawaiian flowers and hula dancers, others big palm leaves and birds of paradise. Still others resembled a mess of two shirts sewn together, like some kind of horrible franken-shirt. He loved them all. 

“Uh, Connor?” Hank asked, watching as the android hastily started to grab up the gaudy shirts. “Are you joking with this?”

“Joking?” Connor asked, pausing with his arms full of wildly contrasting colors. 

“Those are hideous. I mean, personally, I love them but I’m kind of disgusting. They just don’t seem like they’d be up your alley.” 

Connor shrugged as best as he could under heaps of clothing. “They look like your clothes. That’s why I like them.”

“Looks like you have a lot of stuff,” a voice interrupted. They both turned to see a smiling Jerry standing nearby, “May I offer you a shopping basket?”

“Uh…” said Hank. 

“Yes, thank you,” Connor replied, and Jerry promptly passed over the cart he’d been pushing and went along his way. 

They loaded up the clothes in silence, Hank looking deeply bothered and Connor not knowing what to do about it. 

“I think that’s everything except underwear,” Connor announced. 

Hank scratched the back of his head and looked away. “Well, in that case, I’ll hit the bathroom and meet you at the front when you’re done.” He definitely didn’t need to help Connor pick out his intimates.

Connor seemed to pick up on his discomfort and let him go without complaint. 

 

Left to his own devices, Connor felt strangely untethered. The prospect of actively making his own decisions was daunting. He got swept up in the maddeningly slow trundle of the crowd; he drifted helplessly until he caught onto the word ‘lingerie’ and pulled himself free of the current. Everywhere he looked was a sea of lace and silk in varying shades of pastel colors.

He spotted a pair of underwear made of rose-pink satin; he reached a hand out and caressed the fabric, enjoying the way it slipped over his synthetic skin like cool water. Scanning through the rack, he found a pair that fit his dimensions and added it to his cart. He did likewise with a lacy pair of boxer-briefs, one in white and in black. 

The soft, romantic colors faded gradually into beiges, blacks, and whites. Packs of cotton undershirts and boxers lined one aisle, camisoles and bikini cuts on the other. Connor stood there, debating what significance the different styles had. The mannequins used to advertise the garments were flat in front and gender neutral, save for the breasted busts displaying the fitted tank tops. 

Perhaps he was just overthinking it. Surely humans didn’t face a dilemma every time they went shopping for underwear, right? Humans were impulsive, basing their decisions on gut instincts. Connor decided to let go of logic for a moment and let himself gravitate to the shapes and colors he enjoyed the most. 

The cash registers were located at the very center of the store, in a large circle formation with queues branching off in all directions. Hank waited awkwardly, using his height advantage to search for Connor in the crowd. Several minutes had past since Hank left the restrooms and he was starting to regret leaving the android alone. 

Cursing under his breath, Hank started retracing his steps toward the underwear section, his gaze stumbling over every glowing LED he saw. It was finally a flashing red one that caught his attention, and the tall brunet it was attached to. The relief of finding his partner was quickly doused with concern. As Hank hurried toward Connor, he saw that the android was not alone. 

An unshaven man in his thirties was forcing himself into Connor’s space, one finger jabbing accusingly at his chest. Connor said nothing and made no move to defend himself, which seemed to make the guy angrier. Hank’s blood boiled; he could feel the weight of his gun against the back of his jeans and itched to pull it out. Instead, he dodged around a slow moving family and grabbed the guy by the shoulder, spinning him around. 

Hank had a good six inches on him and the fury on the man’s face began to twist with fear. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Hank demanded, giving the guy a backwards shove. He put himself between Connor and his attacker, prepared to come to blows. 

“Fuckin’ pieces of tin, stealing our jobs and now they’re shopping in our malls?” The guy ranted, his weasel eyes squinted venomously. “They think they can just put on some human clothes and suddenly become our equals?”

“Listen, shithead,” Hank barked, looming over the man until he took an uneasy step back, “Androids are people in the eyes of the law, and you’d better get used to it real quick or you’ll wind up in jail for assault.”

The guy sneered. “Oh yeah? Says who?” 

“Says me, jackass,” Hank replied, pulling his badge from his pocket and flashing it. 

The guy froze up, his hands balling into fists. Hank could see his wheels turning, trying to get out of this without losing face. Not a chance. 

“Now are you gonna leave my partner alone or do we have to take a little walk down to the station?”

Growling out another curse, the man scowled and spit on the ground at Hank’s feet before turning and merging back into the crowd. He could take the guy in for assaulting an officer, but honestly, Hank was sick of his face and just wanted to make sure Connor was safe. He turned at could see that Connor’s LED had switched from red to yellow, processing. His eyes were eerily blank.

Hank grabbed his shoulder, shaking him gently. Connor came back online, light changing to blue as he blinked and looked at Hank. 

“I’m sorry, Hank,” he said, his voice quiet and calm. 

“Jesus,” Hank sighed, dropping his hand from Connor’s shoulder. “You scared me. What happened?” 

“I...I’m not sure,” Connor said, frowning in concentration. “I was trying to find you but there were so many people and my system started overheating. Then that man shoved me and I just...locked up.” 

“Sounds like you had a panic attack.” Hank replied. He tried to stay calm though the idea of that scumbag pushing Connor around made him want to scream. 

“That shouldn’t be possible,” Connor complained, frustration clear in his voice. He was becoming more human every day. “It never happened to me before.”

Hank put a guiding hand at the small of Connor’s back and steered him toward the registers. “It’s no big deal, Connor; it could happen to anyone. I know I’ve had my share of public meltdowns,” he said with a chuckle. 

“It’s remarkably unpleasant.” 

“You can say that again.” 

“It’s remark-”

“Very funny, smartass.”

Connor smiled, seeming himself again. Hank accompanied him to the check out and didn’t leave his side until they were safely out of the mall. 


End file.
